


Daddy Daughter Dance Date

by DawnsEternalLight



Series: Fatherhood [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics)
Genre: Ballet, Bonding, Cass is the best guys, Did I Mention Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, I don't, La Bayadère - Freeform, SO FLUFFY, dance, guys this is fluffy, where is this in canon, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 08:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10635933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Bruce takes Cass to the ballet.





	

Bruce adjusted his tie, straightening it in his mirrored image before he reached into his jacket pocket to make sure the ballet tickets were still in his pocket. With how much funding he gave the theater they were more for appearance than an actual requirement, but they felt important all the same. He pulled his coat back into place and checked the tie one more time before a voice called his attention to the door.

Cass stood frowning at him. “We will be late.”

Bruce turned to smile at her, undaunted by his daughter’s apparent impatience. “Alfred is a fast driver; I think we can spare another minute or two. What do you think about this tie?” he asked his tone teasing.

Cass ignored his jab and stalked forward, “No messing around, not tonight.” she was stern as she pushed him from behind, out the door and down the hall.

When she reached the stairs she paused to move next to Bruce and hooked her arm through his own and continued to pull him down. Bruce let her drag him the whole way, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He loved the bright eager impatience pushing her feet to make sure they made it on time.

They were just passing the living room and Dick, when he leapt to his feet and darted in front of them both, camera in hand.

“Move.” Cass told him.

Her hands went to her hips, dragging Bruce closer in the process, since their arms were still locked. Cass didn’t seem like she was going to change poses soon so he stepped over to relieve the pressure, and looked to Dick. His oldest was shaking his head.

“I want at least one picture. Alfie’s not here to take it, so you’re stuck with me.”

Cass crossed her arms and frowned at him for a moment. Then she went to push past him, and drag Bruce with her, but Dick scuttled in front again.

“Dick, you know the paparazzi will take plenty of pictures, pay one of them for some.” Bruce said as he was jerked to another stop by his children’s bickering.

“Just one, Cass. Please?” Dick asked, all his attention on her. “The reporters will photoshop all the pictures and none of them will be natural.”

Cass rolled her eyes but stepped back. Dick’s smile returned, and he set to fiddling with the camera. Bruce pulled his arm from his daughter’s and adjusted himself beside her, tossing an arm over her shoulder in a half hug.

When Dick raised the camera again Cass held up a finger. Dick nodded like he would follow her rules, but his eyes said he’d take as many as she let him get away with.

He held the camera up and frowned before moving it away from his face. “Scoot.” he said, his hand waving at them to move to the right. He kept adjusting them for what felt like forever but what was probably just a minute or so.

As he watched him, crouching and tweaking, and constantly checking the camera, Bruce was struck by the memory of their positions being switched. Years earlier, while Dick was still Robin Bruce had been the man with the camera. Purposefully wasting time to watch Dick squirm with impatience, the young woman who was his date hiding her own smile at Bruce’s fatherly antics. He didn’t think this was payback for Dick’s slight delay in making it to prom (he had always said it was better to be fashionably late), just Dick being himself, but he could feel Cass’s growing displeasure.

He didn’t want her night to be ruined so he cleared his throat and warned, “Son.”

At the same moment he spoke, Cass darted forward, snatching the camera from Dick’s hands. Before he could think to take it back, she was by Bruce’s side again, pulling him close. “Smile.” she ordered and Bruce did, grinning at her stunt as she snapped one, two, and three selfies of them before tossing the camera back to Dick. He caught it with fumbling fingers and a flabbergasted face. She flashed him a grin and Bruce gave Dick and apologetic shrug as they swept past.

Cass seemed to calm down once they were in the car and moving. Still, she sat straight in the seat instead of leaning back or into his side like she might on a different day. Her fingers fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist, tugging a dainty silver bat across the thin chain. The charm made a scraping swish that wasn’t unpleasant as it moved back and forth in quick nervous motions.

His mother had played with her jewelry. He had vivid memories of Martha Wayne tugging on a necklace five minutes before the start of a meeting, and again as she played with a set of bangles letting them jingle together as she waited on his father to finish a phone call. She’d spin her rings, and tap on earrings, but Bruce’s brightest memory was that of the time she’d been playing with a beaded charm bracelet only to have it snap under her fingers, sending colorful beads and shiny charms spreading across the kitchen table while Bruce’s father had been reading the paper. One had bounced into his father’s coffee with a plunk. Both Bruce and his mother had burst into laughter then, causing his father to look up with a confused frown.

He’d laughed at the time, but thinking back on it he realized just how like his father he was, missing the obvious around his kids. It wasn’t that his father had been inattentive, but he’d been a hard working man. Focused on the things at hand. He’d given time to his wife and son, yes, but there were times he’d space out, his mind working on a solution to a medical mystery, or going over minutes from a meeting. It was those times that seemed to stick with Bruce, as much as the shining moments of fondness did. He knew he’d done the same to each of his kids, and hoped that the good outweighed the bad.

One good thing had been Cass’s bracelet. He smiled at it. He’d ordered it for Cassandra on impulse after she’d discarded a whole jewelry catalogue Steph brought over, declaring that everything was too complicated. Steph had been quick to rush after the flying book and Bruce had gotten an idea. He was happy to see that his daughter enjoyed the gift.

He took her hand in his own, stilling the nervous gesture and squeezed, a promise that the night would be perfect. She squeezed a return and leaned back into the chair, a soft smile on her face. He couldn’t help it, he stared, memorizing the content lines on her face as she closed her eyes in anticipation for the show to come.

Cass had been right about the reporters. The moment Alfred pulled up to the Gotham Art’s Hall Bruce saw the dozens of people crowding the ropes that lined the path into the theater. Camera’s flashed and people pushed against each other in an attempt to get to the front. They could already hear the noise from inside the car.

It made sense. It was opening night for La Bayadère, a ballet Cass had been out of her mind to see. She had whirl winded her way through his office the day she’d found out. She bounced in and smacked a flyer down on his desk that announced the ballet watched him until he’d give her a promise to go.

After she’d left Bruce had googled it. It apparently didn’t get played often, and a troupe putting on the whole thing was even rarer. The troupe visiting was going to be in Gotham almost a month, but Bruce hadn’t wanted to make Cass wait a day longer than she had to and had booked opening night tickets. He was beginning to regret it, the noise and lights put a damper on the ‘father-daughter night out’ atmosphere he’d imagined.

Cass didn’t seem to mind at all. Simply being there was enough to wash away both her nerves and any damper the worry of time had put over her. She’d bloomed, taking everything in like a thirsty flower. Her feet practically danced down the carpet as she and Bruce moved down it. She hammed it up for the reporters, smiling and pulling Bruce close to pose for pictures before moving forward.

When they stepped into the theater Cass darted ahead to look over the architecture and Bruce found himself staring at his daughter, she looked beautiful, even in the midst of hundreds of other women dressed in silks and satin.

Her makeup was soft, hardly there until you looked for it, and her hair pinned back with little silver pins, decorated with tiny jewels that looked stunning under the lights of the theater, bright against the black of her hair. Her dress, black but lined with glitter twinkled as she walked, winking brighter than the jewels across the throats of the other women there. She was a star, and he was lucky she was with him.

She turned, having realized she’d lost him and waved him over to look at a painting, a bright smile on his face. He smiled back and followed her lead. It went like that, all the way up to their box, Cass stopping to examine something, or Bruce being dragged into a quick interview, each thing slowly eating up the time until they had five minutes before the show started. By that point, they were seated and the sound of instruments tuning was floating up to them. Cass hadn’t settled herself yet, but was instead digging snacks out of her purse.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow at her, his mouth twitching into a grin. “I could have bought you something to eat.” He offered, “Or we could have gone out for dinner before this. We can still go out after?”

She shook her head, laying out a bag of chips and one of Alfred’s muffins from that morning on the arms of the chair. “The boys sneak snacks into movies.” She said before continuing to rifle through her bag.

Bruce wondered what else she could have tucked in the tiny clutch when she pulled out a small water bottle. “It’s better to sneak them here.” She grinned cracking open the top of the bottle.

Bruce chuckled. “I suppose it is. Next time, warn me and we’ll have double.”

Cass held out her pinky and Bruce locked his with hers, a promise not only to sneak snacks, but to return to the ballet soon. The lights began to dim and the whole theater dropped into silence. Cass pulled away, not quite settling back into her seat, her entire body tense with anticipation. Bruce pressed a pair of binoculars into one of her hands and she spared him a moment to smile, before locking her eyes on the dark stage again.

The conductor stepped up to his podium amidst applause from the waiting crowd, the musicians below him bathed in a gentle light. Cass’s hand tensed around the binoculars, finger twitching against the ring in the center. Bruce leaned over and bumped shoulders with her a moment before her free hand took his own.

A beat of silence and then the conductor’s arms were moving, and the orchestra began a bright and fast tune, one that hurried the heart and pressed the chest with eagerness and anticipation. Too fast the overture slowed into a much slower haunting piece, giving listeners a mix of everything that was to come.

Then the curtains were rising and the ballet began in earnest. Bruce found himself drawn in, Cass’s hand a steady pressure on his own until it pulled away to go to the binoculars, pressing them to her eyes to get a better look at something.

Bruce’s attention caught on her then. On how happy she looked, her shoulders relaxed, feet curled beneath her, shoes lying discarded at the food of the seat. He had no idea when she’d slipped them off or curled up in the chair, but it didn’t surprise him. Not when he’d been so distracted by the first half out of the production.

She let the binoculars fall, happy with her inspection as she resumed focusing on the entirety of what was happening on the stage. Bruce had no idea what she was looking at, neither did he care as he watched her eyes widen, and her mouth drop open. The flash of anger at some twist replaced by a soft look of adoration was far more interesting than the story being told below. He lost the rest of the first half of the ballet to watching her, despite his attempts to pay attention to what was going on, because he knew Cass might want to talk about it, or dance a piece and he wanted to know what point she was referencing.

He’d never liked going to the theater with his parents, it was boring, ‘the most boring thing ever’ as he’d told his mother once. His least favorite visit had been the time his parents brought him to an opera. In their defense, none of them had known it would be entirely in French, they’d gone as a favor to friends. It had still been horrible. Two hours of Bruce squinting at the stage trying in vain to figure out what was going on through the incomprehensible singing left him promising his eight-year-old self he’d never see another one. He still hadn’t.

Ballet was a different, he’d never experienced one as a kid so his opinion of it had been neutral until Cassandra. Her love for it had infected him. Not with the same ferocity as she felt, but something more gentle and precious that spoke of endearment through that of a loved one rather than conscious choice.

When the lights brightened again he found that he couldn’t recall most of the opening of the show. Cass was out of her seat in an instant, stretching her arms above her head. Bruce stood as well, his legs happy for the movement after spending an hour stagnant.

“How do you like it so far?” he asked.

She spun, a wide smile on her face while she did so and Bruce laughed.

“And your favorite part?” he asked.

“It’s coming.” She told him.

He frowned. “I thought you hadn’t seen this yet?”

She rolled her eyes, “The Kingdom of the Shades.” she said like he should have known the meaning of the words. As if it were an embarrassment that he’d even assumed she’d like something else. 

The name did have a familiar ring to it. After he thought about it for a moment he remembered the name from his google search, it was a popular scene. Of course it would be her favorite, it was a standard, and apparently difficult to produce as a group.

She lifted her untouched muffin from the chair and pulled it out of it’s baggie. “Yours?” she asked.

His? Oh, favorite moment. He couldn’t think of a single one that stood out. He’d been transfixed he knew that, but he’d also gotten distracted. Cass read him like a book and frowned around the bite of muffin she’d taken.

“You didn’t watch.” She’d wilted a bit as she said the words, like his not paying attention had been equal to ignoring her.

And he realized with a start that, at least to her that was true. This was important to her, and he should have been watching closely. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad not when his distraction had been her.

“I did,” he said, and brushed a loose strand of her hair back, “I just couldn’t get over how much you were enjoying it.” He gave her a smile. “It distracted me.”

Her frown lingered for a beat before she pulled it into a matching smile. “I am the best distraction.”

He chuckled at that. “Yes, yes you are.”

By the time the lights were fading again Cass had coaxed into remembrance a few of the best scenes from the first half and Bruce felt more confident going into the second part. She reiterated how important it was for him to pay attention to her favorite scene in a hushed whisper as she curled into her seat again. He nodded and opened the program in his lap. The second half of the ballet would open with Cass’s scene, and play through the often left out fourth act.

The orchestra began a second round of warm up before the conductor returned to his platform and Bruce leaned over to whisper in Cass’s ear.

“Is this the scene you were talking about? I—” he was silenced by Cass throwing a hand out, splaying it against his chest.

“Watch.” She commanded without turning her eyes from the stage below.

He leaned back in his seat again and followed her gaze down. Soft blue lights illuminated the stage, decorated sparsely with only a zigzagging ramp leading to the main part.

The orchestra started in earnest then and a single ballerina stepped into view at the top of the ramp. To Bruce’s untrained eye, her moves seemed simple, she pulled a leg out behind her and raised it before lowering it and then raising her arms in a pose. She then took two steps and repeated the motions, this time a second dancer following her out. On and on they danced until thirty-two women had come out and down the ramps, lining up along the stage.

Bruce was floored, the first dancer, and a few after her had to be exhausted. He knew how strenuous repetitive motions like that could be, and yet she’d done them all and was still dancing. He could understand now why Cass had been excited to see it, and why it was her favorite part. The sheer strength it took to do just the opening part of the scene was something to be admired. And the rest of the dance was no different. Slow and fast and stunningly beautiful, he didn’t want to look away, but he pulled his eyes from the dancer’s below to the one beside him for a moment.

The look he saw on Cass’s face was worth anything he could be missing below. Angles could have descended on the stage and Bruce wouldn’t care, not if it meant missing his daughter’s expression. It was more open than he’d ever seen it, emotion in every curve, on every inch, awe and wonder at the dancers below. And a desire to be alongside the dancers, not a frustrated one, but the sure kind of desire that one gets when they know that one day they will share in a dream. Thin lines of tears traced her cheeks and Bruce realized she’d been crying, but again there was no sorrow in it, just the awe of the whole thing.

He wanted to reach out and brush them away, but he didn’t want to break the spell, so instead he turned back to the dance and let himself fall back into it. They sat next to each other, in silent companionship as the rest of the ballet swept them away. The music and afterthought to the dancer’s skill, Bruce promised himself that they’d come again, and as many times as Cass wanted to while the ballet was in Gotham.

When it was over, and the lights raised to thunderous applause Bruce found himself standing alongside Cass, his hands a blur of appreciation. When the crowd began to quiet, after the dancers had all taken their final bow he turned to Cass. Excitement twinkled in her eyes. She danced her way back to the waiting car as they left. At Alfred’s question of how it went Cass answered with a sigh and, “Perfect.”

Bruce seconded the notion and Alfred set off. Cass curled up next to Bruce, tired from the excitement, and satisfied in how it had all turned out.

“That will be you one day.” Bruce didn’t know what possessed him to say it, but the words felt right when he said them, reaching down to take her hand in his own again.

She looked up at him and nodded. “One day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously after this B sets Cass up with ballet lessons and she's the best.


End file.
